Waterfire

“We know so very little about this strange planet we live on, this haunted world where all answers lead only to more mystery.”
― Edward Abbey

 

how my reedfence

glowed

fluting, golden,

comforting, familiar,

in the heat of settling days.

The iron rolls of clouds

shone over the valley.

Mountains stood,

breathing,

offering bouquets of  rock

waiting

for the sun to drop away

into nearly sudden dark.

Winking lion sleepy linger…

finally,

a pattering song 

rainchimes

water hollows

made of soft wood

printing soul tears

drumming

icesoft

so

the air exhaled

sweeter than virgins,

pungent time

drank madly

rising Minerva-eye mist.

far off

flash/flashed

krakatoa diamond

white/amethyst/

gray

 fading swiftly

quietly indigo

and muttering.

obsidian shine rivulets

snaked and

pooled

down

the

hills

and even

ladyreno

wearing cynical

neons

returns innocent

widefaced

child

holding the hand

of the biggest bigness

it cannot

not now

not ever

really

forsake.